The Story of Razi'el

Hey guys, sorry i've been away from the forum, but i've been on the ropes lately and i just sort of had to handle stuff over here. new job though, which is good! and also getting back into the swing of art, so hopefully that will be productive....

so with nothing better to do at 7 AM when i got up today, i decided, why the hell not, and wrote down pretty much EVERYTHING i could remember and/or piece together into one HUGE wall-o'-text. i know the white on black tends to kill the eyes, so i'll break it up into labeled chunks to be purused at liesure.

Also, the wording/writing might be a tad melodramatic. just sayin'.

THE AFOREMENTIONED WALL-O'-TEXT:

* * 1 * *

My name is Nick Westberry, though this is not my first name, nor will it be my last. My first name belonged to a gypsy man living around the time of the feudal kingdoms of europe and france. He lived and died serving his family and friends, and that is where this story starts.

Admittedly, it starts with the death of our hero; broken in body, but not in spirit. He, or I, rather, rose up into the sky, as one would lazily float to the surface of a lake. Darkness slowly gave way to something like soft, silver moonlight, and as though waking from a dream, I gazed upon the face of something the likes of which i had never seen. The only way i could comprehend it, would be to compare it to all of the stars on all of the cloudless nights i slept under the sky, as though all of those tiny points of light had been given the ability to wander and dance, and swept themselves into a cloud of more of the same. I drifted closer to it, the cloud of stars dancing and swirling about, welcoming me with gentle warmth, as a feeling of nostalgia swept over me. I was home.

I am unable to recall how much time passed while I slept there, or even whether time continued to have meaning, or had simply decided, much like an amicable stranger, to sit by my side, content simply with my company while i took my leisure. There were no insistent pokes, prods or pulls, dragging me back to the world below, but it was as though that world, too, waited for my desire to return, rather than insist on my continued corporeal existence. Then i heard it; a voice, calling not from without, but within me. I knew somehow that this voice was the realm i was in, and understood on some level that this bliss i was feeling was the multitude of emotions of all those who had lived, were alive, or even had yet to live. The conversation would be difficult to parse into our language, as it was like... thinking, without words or pictures, but understanding of the others' meaning on a deep level, but for the sake of anyone reading this, i will try.

"Hello..." "Hello... are you/you are this place?" "Yes... I/We are glad for you" "Thank you" "We need you/your help... Only you can do this." "What do you need me to do?"

It proceeded to give me a very strange concept here, and at this moment i have difficulty parsing it. were i to give it words, the closest i could get would be a request to be a champion for it somehow, to protect it or aid it in some way. I felt touched that something so big could think of me, someone so small, in such a way. Wordlessly, i agreed, and that is when my life as Razi'el began. I think i remember the light fading, then myself, as a child of maybe ten or so, stepping onto a cold... or perhaps warm stone floor. it seemed somewhere in between. There were three people there, and it was night time outside of the small building. At this point, i had forgotten all about my interaction with what i now assume was the Source, and i stepped forward, the one closest to me coaxing me into stepping forward, the next gently placing a robe or cloth around my shoulders, and the third writing on a piece of parchment, who then gave me my name.

* * 2 * *

This is the earliest memory i can find, or that i could possibly find of that life, i imagine. the next involved training; i was taught our ways, how to behave, how to speak, how to look and dress, as well as who outranked whom. As i remembered in a previous attempt at writing my story, my first caretaker was gentle, and kind. he encouraged my inquisitive nature, and wanted me to question the things i was told were true. He understood it was a child's wont to play and enjoy their time, and not be buried under heaps of studies, and that was where another fond memory comes in. It is still just a snippet, as it was when i got it, but i remember clearly; the halls decked with holly branches, chill winds and warm lights, the smell of spiced meat roasting in the kitchens of every home, and of course, of my kind teacher, who told me that this festival was not to be withheld from children simply to haul scrolls from one building to another. Overjoyed, i flew from the room, to a dear friend's home, where i enjoyed some sort of spiced, warm cider, music and laughter.

Then, we moved, it seemed... or at the very least I was moved elsewhere. This instructor was different, and as i recalled during a previous attempt at writing this, he hated my questioning nature. When he found my notes and books about my studies, with small questions scribbled in the margins, he grew furious and burned them. I could not be deterred from my nature, however, and simply grew better at hiding the questions. It would be some time later that i would finish my studies, and eventually be moved again, this time to Albion, or somewhere thereabouts, where i was told my archiving skills would be needed. But no such position as that of a simple librarian awaited me there; instead i was greeted by the warm, open arms of the people i know and care for still today. Azaz'el, Micha'el, Gabri'el, Samma'el, and many others, and of course, our dear Ashtarte were the ones i found in that verdant land, with long walks through the woods... and i seem to remember listening to someone (Likely Az) giving us a lecture of some sort as we went, the rest of us (I want to say we were close to eight, ten, or even a dozen, excluding Ash) dutifully following along behind on the wending trails and cool, misty woods.

When we weren't wandering, we were sitting in a clearing. I remember perching atop every large rock we found, followed soon after by Sam, or perhaps Gabe. The two seemed so similar in appearance, it's difficult to tell them apart in my memory, though i remember spirited banter with whichever of the two it was. I never wanted to leave that place, to leave the woods and the foggy dawns and dusks, the gentle patter of rain on leaves, but as with all things, we needed to move on. Myself, Micha'el, Gabri'el and Samma'el, as well as Azaz'el were all called to a desert-like, middle eastern location, the city a few of us have been referring to as Eden. These memories are jumbled and scattered, with little to no sense of time. I remember little of wars -it seems i tried to sweep those blood-soaked mementos of my past out of my mind altogether- but the memories i do have of that time are simple ones of times i cherished. Whether it was simply sitting in my window and watching the sunset paint the buildings in brilliant golden hues, or fighting with some colleague over misplacing my scrolls and maps, these memories all became priceless treasures of time spent with my friends.

One of the most precious was the attunement ritual, or at least, that is what i've come to call it. A number of our race gathered and organized a choir, to unite us in song; it was a ritual that somehow brought us closer to the Source. I can remember standing in that vast hall, all of us with voices raised in harmony as that same harmony washed through us. Above all, one of the most beautiful voices i had ever heard, rang out from a silver haired person singing out when they had a solo, enchanting and so full of passion, inspiring the others to the same heights.

* * 3 * *

The few wartime memories i have involve anger, towards our race, towards the bureaucracy that powered that senseless war machine. Wartime meetings of the archangels sitting at the round table, the council members seated with us, and me (as well as a few others, i imagine) fuming silently about being told we needed to attack one of our own for thinking differently than we did. One such meeting involved the Nephylim, when only a fraction of the population had turned into monstrous beings; believing we could train the remaining stable members, i spoke out against the council, and when ordered in response to slaughter them wholesale, i remember slamming my hands on the table and standing up, screaming any number of obscenities at them, calling them heartless murderers in every sense of the word. My sentiments were echoed by a small number of my colleagues, though they were much less vocal about it, and i was told if i continued they would count my further protests on the matter as treason.

Not long after that, i remember Az's execution, witnessing and being forced to record the executions of so many others of the Grigori as well. I became cold, calculating... and i'm sorry to report that i became a better soldier because of that. i can remember walking the battlefield, parting it with the sheer amount of malice i projected, daring enemies to face me, and only being answered by the most skilled or foolhardy. At this point, so many of my friends had become like this; Gabri'el had become the council's one many execution squad, Micha'el had gone mad with power, Azaz'el had been bound to the Fall, and for all intents and purposes, Samma'el had vanished from the world altogether. I had some new friends a short while later, in Rapha'el, whom i had previously had little contact with outside of my library, and through him i met others. He and i would talk as i sat on my favorite window ledge, he even encouraged me to sing with him, and eventually to return to my post as Choir master. A more kind and gentle soul i don't think i will ever know, and doubtless could not be replaced or replicated.

But somewhere, in the midst of all this, i was told i needed to act as an emissary of our race to the realms we know as Hell. It was a strange, alien place, seemingly so different, and yet so similar to the world we came from. Sentient beings, yet feral in nature, combining the instincts of beasts and the intellect of man haunted those lands. Each had their territory to guard, and they respected each others' boundaries with an unspoken accord, or perhaps it was a threat of retaliation that kept them at bay. Either way, if Eden truly did exist, then the lush jungles and seas teeming with life of this realm would have been it. It was here that i met the most important person in my life through all of these years; and ironically enough his first instinct was to end mine.

In one such ocean as i mentioned, i found myself pursued by a large, octopod-like creature, with rings of razor like teeth that it was none too shy about showing off. i swam for what seemed like hours, having decided to take the far more scenic underwater route along the reefs, somehow able to breathe beneath those waves, and an unlikely savior, a demon, happened upon us not long after we entered his (fairly expansive) territory. Like a dark crimson bolt, he seemed to tackle the octopod, shredding it with an almost beautiful savagery and efficiency, before turning to set upon me in turn. Thinking back now, i can still recall his appearance in perfect detail; he was perhaps around my height (i lack a frame of reference), and had waist length, jet black hair. As cliche as it was, he had horns, sweeping back and flattened in shape to allow water to more easily pass over it, and his face was angular, slightly long and bordering on gaunt, and through his opened mouth i could see at least two rows of serrated, shark-like teeth. His face, chest, shoulders and upper abdomen were human skin, and beyond that his skin grew scaly and plated, crimson colored and fading to blacker than black at his hands and feet. it goes without saying that his hands and feet were webbed, and he could inexplicably dart through the water with the ease of the smallest fish.

Moments before impact however, a strange expression crossed those black, shark-like eyes; he stopped short, and demanded to know what an angel was doing in hell. I explained my situation, that after being chased, i had somehow found myself lost in the seemingly infinite strand of reefs and archipelagos while on the way to seek an audience with the ruler of these realms on behalf of the Council. He proceeded to allow me safe passage through his territory, even guiding me to the closest edge to my destination and arriving at nightfall (though at this point i was not sure how many days had passed during our trip), which was a sight to behold in and of itself; a lush jungle tapered away to glittering black sand, silky soft and dotted occasionally with bright, silvery pearls glinting in the moonlight.

During our travels through his realm, we had shared stories and spoke much, once we were past the initial stages of awkward topics of conversation ("sorry about almost eating you" not being the least of them), and soon we began to feel oddly friendly with one another. It was one of those friendships that you see blossom between people who are seemingly total strangers, and proceed to become nigh inseparable afterwards. That night we rested on that beach, looking up at foreign constellations and stars while the moon shone down on us. I reached down and scooped up a handful of that sand, and finding a pearl, i offered it to my new companion, he declined however, saying that it and this beach belonged to someone else, and taking it would be stealing. Something roared out in the jungle behind us, and for some reason spooked him, and he dove back into the waves without another word. I assume i followed, or found my way to the king's palace, as that's as far as my memory of this realm goes. The demon i met was known as Aquarion, though his other name (for some reason, we all seemed to have two) would be much more widely known; Leviathan.

* * 4 * *

After this mission (i can't seem to remember the outcome at the present time), i returned home to Eden, to resume my duties as chief archivist, but not long after that, i encountered Aquarion in the streets, in an alley somewhere, this time passed out from exhaustion and hunger. I brought him to a ruined hut outside the city limits, some distance away from prying eyes. He explained he followed me because he wanted to stay with me, and i get the feeling it was like a sort of pair bond in animals that had somehow formed between us. Soon after that, he was able to take on a human form and roam about the city freely, and many days of stolen minutes and hours away from the library followed. Those were the happiest i can remember, and happier still were the days raising our son in that tiny, fixed-up brick hut. This went on for seven years, each day he would play, learn and grow, and each night he would go to bed with a smile as the music box i had played him a lullaby. But this part of the story does not have a happy ending.

A short while after his seventh birthday, someone found out about him. The offspring of a demon and an angel was unheard of, taboo, even, and someone decided that this is something that shouldn't be. That day, initially, was like any other; i was working in the library, transcribing something for the council, when a scream, or a cry, an alarm of some sort echoed from afar inside my head. i dropped the quill and flew out the window, with all of the speed i could muster towards the hut, and when i got there, the hut was a blasted shell, with blood and viscera scattered about. there was barely anything left of the body, or bodies in question, and i assumed the worst, i screamed and cried, kneeling there, unable to do much else at the moment. little did i know, this was what was left of two of the attackers; it says quite a bit that a pair of gory smears on the earth and stone was all Aquarion left of them before giving chase to the rest. It was just after this that the REAL pain hit. i could see two more attackers, and a grinning man in a dark cloak, reaching out towards me, from a small standpoint, and then blinding pain split my mind itself open. There is little other way to describe it than to say my mind broke, some vital, integral piece suddenly wasn't there, and the world inside my head was crumbling away. The man i had seen not only killed my son. He Erased him from existence altogether.

Now, Souls are seemingly indestructible; they might be able to feel pain, be hurt or damaged, but they can almost never be destroyed, unless you erase it. Erasing a soul requires knowledge that goes against the Source itself; it literally reduces a soul to the raw energies that somehow formed it. it would be like a diamond being reduced to carbon ash before your eyes, but with much more dire consequences. Anyone who knows the victim will quite literally have their mind ripped open, with any and all memories of that person fractured and broken, or missing entirely. For instance, when i first recalled this, it was like standing on the edge of a giant pit, like someone had reached down, grabbed the earth that should have been there, and just ripped it free. You know there SHOULD be something there, that this was something vital that you should remember, a precious treasure, but that knowledge is simply gone.

The resulting rift in my mind forced me to shut down, and i reverted to a feral state. the energy released blasted away the remains of the hut, and screamed and flew from the scene into the desert. I don't remember anything else during that time, aside from waking up in and alleyway in the rain, with a dark haired man in a cloak standing over me, offering his hand. after that, i somehow resumed my duties, with no knowledge anything had gone wrong.... i don't think i remembered Aquarion at all, as though i had walled off that part to spare myself more pain. It was not long after this i began constructing a master plan, utilizing my already fallen comrades' power. Micha'el had regained himself as well, somehow, and my plan's initiation hinged on him almost entirely. I had to make it look as though he had discovered treasonous actions on my part, and had killed me without a second thought, proceeding to bind me to the fall. i even took care to lay out evidence, a false conspiracy to take down Iscarion and the Council. He begged me not to make him kill me, not after everything we had suffered already, but i assured him it was for the best, and i think i gave him instructions how to follow after a time. I turned around, and he stabbed me with the dagger i had prepared, through the heart, and i felt the ritual trigger with my sacrifice, starting to drag my soul through the portal to Earth.

After this, many lifetimes passed... all of them ending in some way while i was relatively young. I have seen images of some of them during meditation; a Sailor turned pirate, drowned during a storm at sea; An Inca or perhaps Aztec warrior, offered as a living sacrifice to the gods; a Japanese miko, whose shrine was pillaged by bandits, committing seppuku after being raped; a Victorian murderer, going to the gallows with a manic smile... all of these and i'm sure many, many more, were all very necessary parts to this puzzle. I'll figure it out someday, but for now.... i just need to wait and see.

What amazing memories you have Razi'el!All has been detailed well and much of what you speak of resonates from some place of my memory. And when i seen your description of Aquarion, i became even more interested as you describe him nearly identical with my visualizations of the cthonic descendants of the Great Mother.

wow, i'm actually surprised and extremely thankful you guys took the time to read all of that! (like i said, the white text on black background kills my eyes for some reason, it's hard to read things like this at length for me XD)

Ash: Yes, Hell was surprisingly verdant and lush. it was warm, sure, but like a balmy, tropical warmth, heheh, if it weren't for the quasi-feral demons, i'd wanna live there

Ish: yeah, they've all been hard in their own ways. Living this long alone just makes me feel ancient sometimes XD

Ogy: i'm unsure what you mean? i've heard the term "Cthonian" tossed around a few times, but i'm honestly unsure what that means in depth

Cthonic : pertaining to the earth; subterreanean, the underworld etc..So the Titans, Jotnir, dark elves, dwarves, nagas, demons, monsters, etc etc all those who are of divine or mysterious orgins that dwell in the bowels of this earth, could be deemed Cthonic , though i was reffering more to the titans/giants/jotnir when i stated i seen your description of Aquarion as nearly identical to my visualizations

equivalent to the giants, eh? that is definitely weird... he seemed like he was my size, just how big were we? XD

Giants varied in size.. from 25 feet and more to six feet because many interbred with mankind. Many Clthonic giants, or Demons if you will, were shapeshifters, and could change their size and appeareance at will. I am not certain about Angels, but i suspect they had equall ability to shapeshift.

''Angels'' too are giants, as they are brethren to ''Demons'' , and both being high evolved races, have superior stature and other traits to the newer species of the same genesis..

Raz, sorry I didn't get around to reading this until just now... It was a really interesting story.

Do you know what your master plan was? Why it was necessary to be killed and be dragged down to Earth?

The part about you and Aquarion's child being killed, destroyed... erased... that just... that is so very terrible. I am sorry. It sort of hit me in the heart like a knife.The man who did it... what do you remember about him?It also bothers me because my boyfriend seems to think he may have had that ability, to completely destroy a soul like that, and I just wanted to completely deny the possibility of it.

Raz, sorry I didn't get around to reading this until just now... It was a really interesting story.

Do you know what your master plan was? Why it was necessary to be killed and be dragged down to Earth?

The part about you and Aquarion's child being killed, destroyed... erased... that just... that is so very terrible. I am sorry. It sort of hit me in the heart like a knife.The man who did it... what do you remember about him?It also bothers me because my boyfriend seems to think he may have had that ability, to completely destroy a soul like that, and I just wanted to completely deny the possibility of it.

No one being should possess the power to destroy a soul other than the one who created it. That power is too great and too able to be misused by fallible creatures such as we. I assume that only the most powerful, if any, possessed this power, no? The very thought of destroying someone's soul, especially my own, frightens me to no end.